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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25700884">Contentment</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mari_Writes/pseuds/Mari_Writes'>Mari_Writes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>BokuAka Week 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>BokuAka Week, BokuAka Week 2020, Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Chores, Cooking, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Editor Akaashi Keiji, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, No Plot/Plotless, POV Akaashi Keiji, Pro Volleyball Player Bokuto Koutarou, Sharing Clothes, Slice of Life</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:42:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,669</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25700884</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mari_Writes/pseuds/Mari_Writes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>BokuAka Week, Day 4 and Day 9: Clothes sharing and cooking/baking.</p><p>Akaashi is settling in to his new life with his boyfriend in their apartment. Bokuto cooks dinner. Akaashi does laundry. Everything is right with the world.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>BokuAka Week 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858279</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>257</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Bokuaka Week 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Contentment</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Warning: This is PURE domestic fluff. There isn’t really a plot. Sometimes we just need that, right? The story takes place in canon, early on in Bokuto’s stint at MSBY… Akaashi has recently landed his job as a manga editor. It is prior to the MSBY/Adlers match.</p><p>Please comment if you enjoyed, or share on <a href="https://twitter.com/mari_writes1/status/1290470282097033220">Twitter</a> and <a href="https://mari-writes.tumblr.com/post/625484200721711104/contentment">Tumblr</a>! Thank you!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Akaashi breathed in deeply, savoring the fresh air as he finished taking his and Bokuto’s clothing down from the line on their balcony. He had been stuck inside most of the day, agonizing over his first major project as the editor of a publishing company.</p><p>He couldn’t help but be a little disappointed that he was working for a manga title instead of something in literature. However, if the grueling schedule he had already been subjected to was any indication, it would at least give him some good experience.</p><p>He made his way back inside, wincing when he noticed the state of their living room. The floor rug in front of the television was littered with his crap—notebooks, writing implements, his laptop, two empty coffee mugs, post-it notes…</p><p>He’ll deal with it later.</p><p>“Akaashi! Akaashi, guess what?” Bokuto called from the kitchen. “I’m making Butajiru for dinner! Sound good?”</p><p>Hefting the laundry basket onto his hip, Akaashi walked over. “Did your mom teach you how to make it?” Bokuto was rummaging through the refrigerator, his body folded in a tantalizing L shape that immediately sent Akaashi’s thoughts to unholy places. The fact he was wearing a t-shirt that was threatening to be classified as a <em>crop top</em> wasn’t helping.</p><p>“Yeah!” Obviously unaware of the sweet torment he was inflicting on his boyfriend, Bokuto turned, his arms laden with ingredients. “She told me I was a natural at miso dishes—unlike my sisters!” He cackled.</p><p>Akaashi smiled, watching Bokuto as he dropped everything onto the counter. He threw an apron on, tightening it around his waist. The pressure of the apron strings pushed up Bokuto’s shirt even further until there was a prominent sliver of skin between it and his pants.</p><p>Akaashi abruptly turned on his heel. “I’m going to go fold these.”</p><p>“Okay! I’ll let you know when dinner’s ready!”</p><p> </p><p>Laundry was Akaashi’s chore, usually. Since he wasn’t the best cook, he tried to help out with other tasks. But he also just liked folding laundry. It was calming. He always started by dumping everything on their bed, then sorting it into two piles. From there he’d separate things like socks and underwear, workout clothing, pajamas, work clothes, dress pants, outdoor attire, etc.</p><p>It was a system; something he could keep in order—unlike everything else in his life, at the moment.</p><p>He was almost done when he came across one of Bokuto’s new MSBY Black Jackal jerseys. It was black with white text and a golden slash, as if a jackal itself had torn across the front and back. Akaashi thought it was pretty cool. He held it up, a rush of pride flowing through him for his boyfriend, his ace, his <em>star</em>.</p><p>Then he got an idea.</p><p>It was a really stupid idea. Or rather, a really cliche and sappy one. He honestly couldn’t believe he was even considering it.</p><p>But he <em>knew</em> that Bokuto would like it and honestly, that was all that mattered.</p><p>Quickly, Akaashi ripped off his v-neck and threw it towards their hamper. He slipped on the jersey, turning towards the full-length mirror on the closet door.</p><p>It was obviously a bit big in the shoulders, but not too long—he wasn’t that much shorter than Bokuto, after all. He turned around in it, frowning when he realized the look wasn’t quite complete.</p><p>He took off his sweatpants.</p><p>
  <em>Oh heck no…</em>
</p><p>He blushed at the sight of his pale legs completely on display due to his tiny briefs. That was <em>way</em> too much. He had an inkling they wouldn’t make it through dinner if he walked out there like this.</p><p>“Akaashi! Dinner’s almost ready!”</p><p>In a panic, Akaashi launched himself towards his dresser, where he dug out a pair of dark blue shorts. “Be right there!” He quickly pulled them on and took one more look in the mirror.</p><p>The shorts stopped mid-thigh, a few inches below the hem of the jersey. They were not too tight, but still molded to his legs as he moved.</p><p>Okay. This would work.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Bokuto almost dropped their dinner when he saw him.</p><p>He had been transferring the large pot of soup from the stove to the table. One glance at Akaashi and he was wobbling right into the side of the wall, soup sloshing dangerously.</p><p>“Be careful, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi warned, remaining as deadpan as possible even as his heart raced. “Here, I’ll get that.” He grabbed the pot’s handles, brushing his boyfriend’s fingers as he took it from him. He could feel Bokuto’s eyes burning into his back as he leaned over to place the soup onto a trivet.</p><p>“Akaashi… that’s my jersey.” He breathed.</p><p>“Yes. I hope you don’t mind.”</p><p>Bokuto coughed out a laugh. “<em>Mind?</em> Gods, Akaashi, I’ve always heard about the Boyfriend Shirt thing, but I've never seen it put into practice before. I don’t mind at all. Like, wow.”</p><p>Akaashi chuckled. It was pretty obvious that Bokuto wouldn’t be fooled if Akaashi tried to act innocent, so he just nodded, then double-backed towards the kitchen to grab a couple of beers. </p><p>Bokuto grabbed his arm.</p><p>It was a gentle grab, but firm. Akaashi allowed himself to be pulled into his boyfriend’s space. Two strong hands landed on his hips. “Akaashi,” Bokuto muttered into his ear, sending a shiver down Akaashi’s spine. He then dropped his head lower until his lips meant the soft skin of Akaashi's neck, then his collarbone, right above the shirt.</p><p>Akaashi bit his lip as the other man tugged him closer, hands traveling to the small of his back and then lower, lower until…</p><p>“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi huffed, maneuvering his hands so they were pressing against Bokuto’s chest. “Not right now. It’s time for dinner, and…”</p><p>Bokuto snorted. “Really, Akaashi? You wear my jersey for the first time and expect me to be hungry for <em>Butajiru</em>, of all things?”</p><p>Face burning, Akaashi slapped his hands against his boyfriend and pushed. “It’ll get cold. And I’m hungry.”</p><p>Bokuto let him go, but not before he landed a light smack onto his ass.</p><p>“Bokuto-san!” Akaashi scolded, but the other man just laughed.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The food was delicious, of course. Bokuto wasn’t just boasting when he said he was a good cook. His skills were on par with Bokuto’s mother herself. (How the <em>hell</em> does he get the layers on his rolled omelettes so perfect?)</p><p>After dinner Akaashi washed the dishes while his boyfriend began working on dessert: chocolate pudding. It was one of their favorites—and Bokuto had perfected his homemade recipe.</p><p>“Hey Akaashi?”</p><p>“Hmm?” He turned to see Bokuto glancing at him out of the corner of his eye while mixing cornstarch into a saucepan. Akaashi noticed he’d gotten some on his cheek.</p><p>
  <em>Cute.</em>
</p><p>“What do you say about me wearing something of your clothes, too? Doesn’t seem fair that it can’t go both ways.” Bokuto smirked, reaching down with his other hand to start the burner.</p><p>Shrugging, Akaashi turned back to the sink, carefully scrubbing a kitchen knife. “I suppose you’re right. I’ve got smaller shoulders, though…”</p><p>“So let me try on your pajama bottoms!” Dropping his wooden spoon, Bokuto wiped his hands with a towel. He waggled his eyebrows and then took off towards the bedroom.</p><p>Akaashi rolled his eyes. Then he remembered the pudding. “Bokuto! Shouldn’t you be stirring this?” He sighed.</p><p>Eyeing the gooey brown liquid, Akaashi decided he’d have to take over, lest it burn. He wasn’t completely hopeless in the kitchen. He knew how to <em>stir, </em>at least.</p><p>“Look! They fit!”</p><p>Bokuto skipped into the room, wearing the bottoms of Akaashi’s favorite pair of pajamas: A dark green set with tiny gold owls littered across. They had been a gift from the man who was currently modeling them—turning in a circle, arms outstretched.</p><p>The pants were a bit snug in the thighs and butt. Akaashi’s eyes absorbed how low they were riding in comparison to his cropped shirt. It was… quite the ensemble.</p><p>“Very nice, Bokuto-san. They’re not too tight, are they?”</p><p>“Nah, and they’re really soft! Why didn’t I get a set for myself too, Akaashi?”</p><p>Akaashi smiled and turned his attention back to the pot. The pudding seemed nearly ready, though obviously he was no expert.</p><p>He then heard soft, sock-covered footsteps approaching, and a solid presence was suddenly at his back. “Need help?” Bokuto asked, a smile in his voice. He reached out his arms so that he was bracketing Akaashi’s own. He lightly began guiding Akaashi’s hands as they stirred and gripped the pot.</p><p>“This is incredibly cliche, Bokuto-san,” he muttered, ears warming.</p><p>Bokuto chuckled. “That seems to be the theme of the evening, eh, Akaashi?”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>A while later, Akaashi found himself curled up on the couch with his boyfriend. Episodes of some anime were playing on TV. Empty pudding bowls sat at their feet amongst all of Akaashi’s work materials. He felt a bit bad about leaving the mess, but Bokuto had insisted he didn’t mind.</p><p>One of Akaashi’s hands was under Bokuto’s shirt, placed right above his bellybutton. Bokuto’s hand was under the jersey, a solid weight on his spine.</p><p>They did this sometimes—just lying together, their hands choosing a skin-to-skin point of contact on the other. It wasn’t sexual. It wasn’t even deliberate. It was just a subconscious thing they did; a way to ground themselves.</p><p>It was times like these that Akaashi couldn’t quite understand how he’d gotten so lucky. Here he was, fresh out of college, with a (relatively) secure job and living comfortably with roof over his head, with the love of his life. He knew not many were so lucky.</p><p>He smirked inwardly. Bokuto hated when Akaashi used the term “lucky” to explain his life.</p><p><em>“You’re not lucky, Akaashi!” </em>He would say. <em>“You worked hard for all of this! And you’re such a good person! You deserve everything you have!”</em></p><p>Bokuto had no idea that saying such things only solidified Akaashi's view that he was the luckiest man in the world.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Am I projecting my own aspirations and desires on Akaashi in that last section? Maybe. You can’t prove anything.<br/><a href="https://twitter.com/mari_writes1/status/1290470282097033220">Twitter</a><br/><a href="https://mari-writes.tumblr.com/post/625484200721711104/contentment">Tumblr</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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